


A Curse Upon the Land (2b)

by acidtiger



Series: A Curse Upon the Land [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms
Genre: Angst, Barovia (Mention), Ciclical Argument, Death (off camera), F/M, Reunions, Sequel, Strahd (Mention), Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtiger/pseuds/acidtiger
Summary: DISCLAIMER: The Original Characters belong to their respective player/creator. The NPCs and setting are not my own, I have shaped/adapted them to suit my needs, but they the property of Wizards of the Coast.I had two ending ideas for Mason and Alleria. One short, one long. This is the LONG version.Characters are based on those from a Curse of Strahd campaign. These events take place 16 years after the characters come home. My deepest apologies to Baasha's player too, I can't help but feel guilty for turning her into the bad guy when she never had any interest in Mason.





	1. Full Disclosure

                There was a racket outside the cabin unlike Mason had heard in all his days. The shrill sounds stabbed at his weary mind, cutting away at what little hold he still had on reality. He wanted to fling open the windows and scream at the birds, squirrels and whatever of nature's beasts where disturbing his stupor. If only he could reach into his chest and yank out the lump of anger and hurt that had coalesced there, he would at least then have had something to lob at the nearest offender.  

            But, he hadn't the strength. Furthermore, he was dubious of his own ability to even wrench himself from his chair at the moment.  He felt like it had become part of him, that it's four legs were the only thing keeping him from the floor. That it alone, was the only thing stopping him from curling up into a wretched little ball on the floor

            Normally the wood around their small cottage was quiet and peaceful. It was one of the reasons they had picked the location, close enough to the wood to provide, but the safety of not being fully immersed in it.  He cursed again. The one time it mattered, the one time he needed that solitude, it mocked him.   

            He was vaguely aware of the other noises around him as well. More immediate ones. More recognizable ones. There was a hint of quiet conversation coming from the kitchen. His sister. His poor children. The thought of the pain he would soon bring to them broke his heart further.  Taking refuge on the floor was looking like a better and better option as each moment past. 

            The loud trumpet call of an elk in the distance was the last straw. He flew to his feet, ripping himself out of his chair, with a force summoned from gods know where. His legs buckled slightly, threatening to give way as he went to the window, but he didn't stumble. Anger flared within him as the shutters were flung open with similar force. 

            "Have some respect you foul creatures, my wife is dead!" Even in the impetuousness of his anger, his voice hitched in his tightened throat as he said the words out loud for the first time. After a long moment of cathartic fist shaking and cursing, Mason slumped back into his chair, his rage spent, he was bereft of energy once more. 

            In the days since Baasha fell ill, Mason stayed faithfully at her side, leaving his post only to tend to the children's needs and usually neglecting his own. Her illness was a cruel trick. If he had not given up adventuring, not stopped practicing his clerical ways, he might have been able to save her. But, he had traded in his sword and shield for hoe and plow, for wife and children. 

            Sinking down deeper into his chair, Mason tried to relax, but found his body still tense and rigid. He spared the barest of sidelong glances at Baasha's still form on the bed and moved his hand to hers, gently prying the glass vial from her grasp. Swirling the liquid around inside, he held it up to the light for inspection. The thick mercurial like mixture clung to the glass. His expression was blank as he tried to force himself not to have any opinion about the contents of the vial.  

            With complete disregard for his heart's wishes, his mind forced himself back to their conversation the night before. Their last conversation. 

* * *

 

            "Husband?" Baasha's voice was hoarse, yet soft. Her eyes were open, but unfocused, as she stared up at the ceiling. 

            "I'm here, dear one." Mason replied, moving from his chair to the edge of the bed to sit beside her. "What can I get you?" His voice was equally soft, equally hoarse from the painful lump in his throat. 

            "There's something I need to tell you...before I die. I need to leave this land with a clear conscience." She let her head roll to the side towards his voice. 

            "You don't need to trouble yourself with those thoughts."  he took up her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "You'll pull through this soon and be back to driving me mad in no time at all." He cracked the smallest of smiles, but it didn't reach his grief-stricken eyes. 

            Her smile was more genuine and natural, "Your lie is a kind one, but we both know it is just that." 

            Mason let go of the breath he had been holding tight within his chest and the resulting sigh seemed to deflate him.  

            "Please go to my old pack, the one from before Brynnan was born. There is a small vial of silver liquid. Would you bring it to me, please." 

            "Now?" He asked, looking more than a little confused. It sounded like she was asking for a healing potion, but they had already tried every concoction and ritual under the sun. 

            "Yes, please. It's important." 

            He gave her hand another, gentle squeeze and stood. Pushing his hands up his face, he dried his eyes.  It was an odd request, but he wasn't going to argue with her, not now.   

            The items from their past that had been deemed worthy enough to save, but that they had no real use for, had been packed away in an old chest at the foot of their bed.  Mason dug down through the layers of trinkets and memories, a few items causing a smile to tug at his lips. Had it been any other moment in time, he would have dragged them out and relived their stories with his wife. He would have made her laugh, and fallen in love with her all over again. 

            "Is this it?" Mason asked, holding up a small leather box with a silver clasp. He had a vague recollection of seeing her with it in Barovia. Or, right after, perhaps. 

            "The one with the sliver lock, yes." She replied, unable to lift her head fully. 

            He nodded, and went back to his spot on the bed beside her. Another deep sigh puffed his bangs up out of his eyes. Placing it on her chest, where she could reach it, fingers moved to unlatch the clasp. Immediately, Baasha's hands moved to stop him.  

            "Mason, you may be upset with me when you hear what I have to say." Her voice was weak, but held an unmistakable degree of determination. 

            "Impossible." He replied, clicking his tongue at her in admonishment. 

            Baasha did her best to take a full, deep breath. The resulting wheeze caused Mason to cringe. "I've kept something from you all these years. Something I had no right to withhold. All I ask is for you to know I did it out of love...and fear." 

            "Fear?" Mason echoed, his brows knitting in confusion. 

            She dipped her head as best she could in a single nod. "Do you remember Alleria?" 

            He nodded in return, "Of course, the Elf druid." She hadn't crossed his mind in well over a ten year. "Why would you fear her? Don't get me wrong, I recall her being formidable in battle, but I always thought the two of you got along well enough." He chuckled and shook his head as he thought back to those days, "It's not like you have Drow blood." 

            Mason's comment pushed aside the pain of the task at hand for a moment, and Baasha's pale face brightened just barely. "Poor Tallonon, I don't think she spoke a single word to him, right up to the very end." She said, turning the box over and over in her hands absently, as she spoke. 

            "Then what?" Mason pressed, causing the momentary flicker of levity from his wife's face to disappear fully. 

            "After you stepped through the gateway home, but before I had a chance to join you, Alleria gave me this." With that said, she finally opened the small box and took out the vial that was carefully packed inside.  "It holds the memories Strahd stole from you. Your true memories." She explained, holding the vial out to her husband. 

            He shook his head, holding up a hand to rebuff the offered vial. "No, I told her then, memories or not, there could have been nothing true between her and I. I would never bind myself to an Elf. That way leads only to sadness and heartbreak."  

            His voice had taken on a firmness, that Baasha knew meant end of discussion. But not this time. She would not obey that tone. "This is my dying wish, Mason. I told you I will not take this to my grave." She looked at him with damp eyes. "Please, hear me out." 

            And he melted, emotionally and physically, slumping down beside her wasting form. "Of course, continue..." 

            "I don't know why she didn't give you them herself. I can only imagine she delayed waiting for the right moment, found none, and then you were gone. 

            He could do no more than nod as he listened. This was not how he wanted to spend the end of their time together. 

            "I should have told you all those years ago. I should have.... done something, but I was afraid you'd leave once you remembered." 

            He shook his head, "Never, Baasha. I know the words may sound feeble, but I love you with all my heart, you are my wife, the mother of my children. I could never have left you." 

            "I don't doubt your feelings, Mason, I know they are true, but, they would have never happened...never grown into what they are, if it had not been for that interruption. I...I..." This was the part she was truly ashamed to admit to him, "And I knew that you and she were together. I could have at least claimed ignorance if you had both kept it a secret, but..." Her words trailed off, her throat parched with emotion. "Strahd did what he did, but I'm to blame for keeping you apart." She added a moment after, her voice barely a whisper. 

            If it had been sixteen years ago, and they were freshly returned from that accursed land, then he might have had a different reaction.  "It doesn't matter, Baasha. It is what it is, this is where life has brought us to, and I have no regrets..." His head hung, eyes closing for a moment. "...other than the obvious, of course." 

            When he finally lifted his head, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was prepared, mentally, to argue him into submission. He was also painfully aware, she had not the strength for a prolonged argument let in her. As he watched her, he could almost see her strength fading away, from moment to moment. 

            "Rest, dear." He said softly, putting vial and box aside, to pull the covers up around her more tightly. "You've said what was needed to be said, and I bare you no ill will at all. Put the whole thing out of your mind."  Her response was a simple smile, no words, but full understanding that the matter was indeed, done with. 


	2. Reunion

                "Pa, Pa, come quick!" Brynnan called from the front of the cottage. Mason found the emotion in his son's voice was hard to read, was that terror or excitement? Without bothering to put down his hatchet, or the unsplit log in his other hand, he jogged around to the front of the cabin. 

                 "What? What is it?" He called out as his head swiveled from left to right, looking for his children. He had expected some sort of minor injury or accident, nothing of too much worry. Since their mother's passing, the children had been prone to undue fussing over every bump or bruise.  He found nothing of the sort though, and the scene unfolding in front of his little cottage stopped him dead in his tracks. 

                The great white dire wolf, its fur marked with even more scarification than Mason recalled, stood tall and proud in his front yard. Flanking her on either side were some half a dozen smaller wolves, making up a complete pack. The leader of the pack dipped its head in greeting towards Mason and took a step forward towards the children.  Marianna, barely tall enough to even look one of the normal sized wolves in the eye, screamed in glee and moved forward towards the largest of the animals. 

                "Mari!" Mason shouted, his heart nearly leaping out of his open mouth. He moved quickly, hatchet still in hand, to place himself between his children and the wolfpack. "Enough!" He said, firmly and forcefully, taking a step towards the white dire wolf. "Change, before you give the children a real fright." He demanded. 

                "Pa? What's going on?" His son asked softly, moving in closer to his father as he bent down to pick up a large stone, his gaze never leaving the wolves. 

                "Don't worry, son." He stressed the last word in an almost possessive sort of manner as he glared at the large wolf.  His emerald eyes met her bright blue ones, staring her down. His brow creased ever so slightly as his mouth set in a grim expressionless line.  Gone was the marvel that she could do such a thing, assume such a shape, all that mattered at the moment was the safety of his children. 

                A ripple went down her spine, her fur bristling as the muscles under her skin tensed and released.  At the same time, it's form shifted and changed in only a blink of the eye. Where the wolf once stood, there was now a tall female Elf. 

                It might have been a ten year and a half since he had seen her last, but he would have recognized her anywhere. As much as he had railed against any sort of romantic relationship with her, there was no mistaking the allure of her exotic nature. She did seem taller than he remembered.  Though it could have been her rigid stance or haughty Elven demeanor, or perhaps, that he was still so weighed down with grief that he felt no taller than a dwarf.   

                Her garb had changed significantly as well, gone was the simple brought leather armor she had worn before, replaced with a long flowing robe that looked to be crafted from actual leaves. Mason knew instinctively that it was magical.  

                She peered down at him imperiously, waiting. 

                "You've done well for yourself." He said simply, trying to sound casual despite the oddness of the situation. 

                Alleria dipped her head in a slight nod. "And you do not look as old as I had expected." She said, trying to sound equally as detached.  

                He couldn't help but chuckle at the comment, and holstered the hatchet as some of the tension was defused. Glancing over at his children, he cleared his throat. "Brynnan, Marianna, this is an old friend of your dad's, Alleria." He had stumbled awkwardly on his choice of words, as if friend was inadequate. Despite everything that had happened, or supposedly happened, between them, the events of Barovia had changed everyone involved. 

                It was Marianna that spoke next, and with the full exuberance of youthful excitement. "You're an Elf! And a Druid! I remember you from Pa's stories." She bolted forward, coming to a full stop right in front of Alleria, her eyes as wide as saucers. 

                Alleria crouched down to get a better look at the little girl and meet her gaze. "Arch-druid." She corrected. "You would be correct, I am one of the Or-tel-quessir. Though, in the common tongue, people call us Wood Elves." She said, a demure smile finally breaking the dispassionate expression she had been forcing. 

                "I'm part Elf." She said proudly. 

                "Oh, I can tell." Alleria replied with a firm nod. "We always know when someone has the blood. "Has your father taught you any Elvish?" She asked, her gaze flitting to Mason for a moment.  The Mason she knew, before Strahd's interference, had been proud of his Elvish heritage.  Given his change in attitude though, Alleria was unsure if he would have shared that pride with his children. 

                Marianna's smile faded and she hung her head slightly. "Only a few words. Ma and Pa only spoke Common around us, so they didn't stick." 

                "Well then, perhaps, if your Pa allows it, I could teach you some more? It is a beautiful language." 

                "Oh..." Mason uttered distractedly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It is a rather difficult language dear, it can take a long time and I'm sure...the Archdruid is very busy and wouldn't have the time."  He was still somewhat weary of Alleria's arrival. The timing of it, and he was unsure of its meaning. He loathed to revisit old wounds.  

                "But, I want to learn, Pa!" Marianna whined and Brynnan chimed in as well, "Me too, Pa. And some magic, too." The rock in his hand was dropped as he grabbed onto Mason's sleeve, tugging at it. "All Elves know magic, you said so yourself." 

                Mason knew when he was beat, having an even harder time saying no to them since his wife's passing. He sighed deeply, no longer offering any protest or excuses in the matter.  His children's involvement in the discussing, their begging, was the perfect shield against whatever Alleria had to be here to discuss. 

                In a movement that was as fluid as poured water from a cup, Alleria stood back up and turned to the rest of her wolf pack. They were waved off with a simple gesture, after which, they turned and lopped off into the tree line. 

                "Children, go get cleaned up for dinner so Alleria and I can speak for a moment."  His request was met with a chorus of weak protests, but after a moment of whining, they headed inside. He watched them for a long moment, insuring they were behind closed door before turning back to the Elf. He opened his mouth to speak, confusion still etched on his brow. 

                Before he could utter a word, Alleria cut him off. "Am I to assume, from your less than enthusiastic greeting, that you still refuse to reclaim your missing memories?"  Never would her heart, or her Elf pride, allow her to believe that he would still treat her in such a distant manner if he had. 

                Barovia was so many years ago, but the few memories Mason still had of Alleria did not include her being so detached or dispassionate.  He rubbed idly at the back of his neck again and shook his head. "No, and all the reasons for why haven't changed. If anything, there are two more reasons now, to not." He jerked his head back towards the house. 

                Alleria nodded sharply, shaking an errant leaf or two free from her hair. "Are they at least in your possession now?"   

                "Yes, she gave them to me before she passed." 

                Alleria did her best not to frown, but found it too difficult to fully hide what she was feeling. She had known he wouldn't be easy to convince, and she had an inkling that Baasha's passing would make it even more difficult. To her, it was a simple, especially if he had the memories. In her mind, their existence had to be all the evidence he needed, all the convincing that was required. 

                "Is that why you're here now? You heard she died and thought, just like that, I'd erase her? That just like that I'd leap at the chance for us to resume some romance that I have to take on faith even existed?" Anger seeped into his voice as his jaw clenched. 

                "Yes, I hard she was ill, so I came." She replied simply, letting him say his piece first so that she could gauge exactly what she was up against this time around. 

                "How did you even?" He shook his head, "No... you knew and did nothing? With all that magic, as an Arch-druid...you could have done something. Were you so jealous and bitter to let her just die?" Mason's first balled up as he demanded an explanation of her. 

                Alleria's expression returned to a dispassionate neutral demeanor, hiding the sadness inside her. Nothing had changed. "No, Mason, there was no motive behind the timing of my arrival. Nor was there anything I could have done for her. The illness that took her was one of the spirit, not the body." 

                "What do you mean by that!?"  His green eye blazed with an anger she had never seen before in him. Gone was that mischievous twinkle in his eye when he used to tease and poke fun at her.  

                "I do not know what her reasons were, or why she waited so long to tell you the truth, Mason, but I believe it was the guilt of her choice that was behind her sickness." 

                Mason balked at the idea, stabbing a finger in the air towards her, "Don't you dare. Don't you for one moment blame this on her!" Even in his anger, Alleria's explanation did make some sense. They had tried everything, seen every healer, with no luck.  

                Anger washed over Alleria's face. Her rage at the injustice of it all finally seeking freedom as it fought its way past all the sadness, screaming to be heard. Had she fur in this form, it would be bristling and hackles up.  "Your dear Baasha knew, Mason. They all knew that there was something between us. By the Nines, even Strahd knew! That is why he did what he did." She pointed out, vehemently.   

                "But, he was a cruel and evil monster, we could hardly expect decent behavior from him! What does that make her, for keeping them from you? From keeping you from me? How does that deceit sit with you so easily?" 

                "Don't you dare speak about her that way!" Mason shouted, his anger winning out over his concern for the children hearing.  How dare she come here, after all this time and speak of his wife this way?  He felt such contempt for her, and it was so much easier for him to keep that anger directed at her. It clouded logic and common sense, letting him to ignore the fact she had a point. 

                "You will have to pardon my lack of tact on the subject." The fire that been lit inside her now, there was no holding back. "But, to have you stolen from me not once, but twice..." She shook her head violently, "No, I can never forgive that. We should have returned from Barovia together, ready to start a new adventure together." 

                "And, I told you, memories be damned, I would never have shared my life with an Elf."  He had that leg to stand on at least, that would never make the same mistake his mother had.  

                "And _I_ am telling you, that sentiment is Strahd's doing." She shouted back in anger, throwing her hands up in the air. "You were more than willing to bind yourself to me, we had an understanding! I was the one with misgivings, not you." Though, the tone of her voice now would not have suggested there had ever been any romantic feelings between the two. 

                "Stop, I don't want to hear any more of this. I've said my piece and that is that." Mason tried to will the anger inside him to subside, but it was difficult. It felt so much better than the grief that had taken up residence in his chest. "Now, I've got two children that need their supper..." 

                Alleria's frown deepened as she was dismissed so abruptly. "I have waited sixteen years, Mason." 

                "Which should be nothing to an Elf!" He cut her off with. 

                 Alleria uttered an exasperated growl, "I wish you could remember exactly how fervently you pursued me, if only so you would realize how utterly unfair and infuriating this is." 

                "I pursued you?" Mason asked, meaning to sound surprised, but laced with ager, it only came across as mocking. 

                She scoffed in return, "As I have told you already, yes!  Mason, why in any of the gods names would I make up such a thing?"    

                He cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing her face, her stance, anything for a hint to her motive. 

                "What purpose would it serve?" She continued, steadying herself emotionally.  She would try reason, over emotion, to appeal to him. "You are amusing, and handsome, but not _that_ amusing, nor _that_ handsome.  I could find no end of far more willing partners." She said with all the lack of humility her race was known for. "Why, oh why, would I continue this, after all these years were it not the truth?" 

                He balked at her new approach, continuing to ignore the sensible voice in his head that tried to cut through his anger. "It doesn't matter, truth or not, my wife is barely cold in the ground and I will not dishonor the time we shared by erasing her!" 

                "There is nothing to say she would be erased, Mason. My contempt for her aside, I would not ask you to forget your life with her. All I am asking is for you to remember what we had, to continue from where we were." She explained. 

                "No." He said firmly, seemingly unable to reconcile the two opposing sides in his mind. "I don't wish to resume a path that I know can only lead to abandonment. I won't become my mother." 

                Alleria sighed, giving herself a quick shake in an attempt to physically cast off some of her anger.  The conversation had come around again to the start. "Well, then I see we have nothing left to discuss." 

                He nodded sharply, causing his chestnut brown hair to partially obscure his eyes.  "Finally, something we can agree on." 

                The scowl she gave him could have set his unruly hair on fire. Saying nothing more, she resumed her spell-shape and turned away from him. Tipping her head back to the sky, she let out a long howl, calling her pack back to her.  Without so much as a glance back at Mason, the white dire wolf and its companions departed. It took only moments for them to disappear into the tree line, leaving Mason standing there alone, his chest twisted up into a knot of raw emotions. 


	3. Tenna' ento lye omenta

                It had taken Mason an extra full hour to get the children settled down for sleep that night. They were still completely wound up from their encounter with Alleria. He didn’t have the heart to discourage their excitement too strongly though. This was the first time he had seen t hem so happy since their mother passed away.  

                “How many animals can she turn into, Pa?” Brynnan asked. Though, he had no sooner got the words out before his sister jumped in.  

                “She’s very pretty, Papa, isn’t she? Like a princess!” 

                “Oh no!” Brynnan exclaimed and flapped his arms about. “I didn’t get to ask her about Elf Magic.” 

                Mason leaned in to retuck Marianne’s covers up around her for the eighth time. “I don’t know how many, but lots I bet. Yes, Elves are almost always very pretty, like princesses or princes.” He pivoted to his son’s bed and squeezed his should gently in a reassuring manner. “ You’ll have plenty of time to learn about magic when you’re older.  

                “Will she come visit again?” asked his daughter, blissfully unaware of all the problems that question entailed.  “I really, really liked her. A lot. And so I can learn Elvish too.” 

                Mason couldn’t help but chuckle at his youngest. It was so like her to really-really love just about anything on first glance. Last month it was the new fruit tree he had planted and before that, a traveling merchant that stopped by last season with a stock of new dolls. 

                “I don’t know, little one." He replied, reaching out to lightly tap on her on the nose. "Your father isn't completely useless though, I'll have you know." He straightened back up and extinguished their lamp. "Quel kaima. Sleep well."  His words were met with soft cheers as his children settled in for the night. 

* * *

                Once he was sure the children were sound asleep, Mason poured himself a generous mug of Fire Ale and took a seat on the front stoop of his cottage. He was trying his best to reflect on the days happenings. There was no pain associated with his memories of Barovia. Some of them, surprisingly, were good memories. They had been successful at their quest, and he had met Baasha there. It was also where he had met Alleria. It was hard not to think on what she had said to him today; her insight into Baasha's illness, the fervor in which she made her case about their relationship. He had to admit, it did make some sense. Furthermore, if he was to be honest with himself, he was starting to feel some resentment towards Baasha's actions. 

                He knocked back the contents of his glass, grimaced, and quickly poured himself another. It was a hard thing to reconcile in his head, and heart. He loved Baasha wholly, but couldn't help feel angry that she would do such a thing. Deny him the right to make his own choice. Truth be told, and though it hardly mattered now, he had no idea what he would have done then. 

                The entire matter vexed him, and with drink and emotion clouding his mind, he slammed his glass down in frustration. Going to his bedroom, he retrieved the vial and then returned to his seat. It was a cold night, with more than a hint of winter's approach. The belly full of Fire Ale kept his body warm, but his spirit knew no such comfort.  He drained his glass again, savoring how the liquid burned at his throat, and held the tiny flask of memories up to his face. Turning it over and over in his hand, he couldn't help but be mesmerized at how the thick, silvery liquid moved within its confines.  

                If he was to believe both Baasha and Alleria, there had been something romantic between he and he Elf. If he put any stock into what Alleria had said, this aversion to Elves was apparently Strahd's doing as well.  It was a fairly hard pill to swallow though, and while he was angry with Baasha's lapse in judgement, he still wasn't willing to let go of her and toss out all that had happened since their return. 

                Back and forth he went between drinking, and pouring, taking time out from that routine only occasionally to toy with the vial of silvery liquid.  Oblivious to how long he had been stewing in ale and anger, he finally glanced around at his surroundings. The sky was dark and filled with stars, and had been, long before he finished his first bottle of Fire Ale. 

                "I haven't been this drunk since...Barovia." He said aloud to himself, slurring most of his words. Holding the phial up to his face, he forced his heavy-lidded eyes to focus on it. "You little bastard, what in the Nines am I supposed to do with you now?" Gripping the offender roughly in his fist, he wound up his arm, debating briefly tossing the damned thing into the night. 

                "Curse you!" He shouted into the darkness. A firm breeze whipped up as if in answer, and it burned at his cheeks.  The vial still gripped tightly in his hand, he hid his face in his fists. "Valkur, save me." He started weeping softly as the stress of the decision before him caused his chest to tighten like he was caught in the Kraken's grasp.  

                After a few minutes of quiet crying, he sniffed loudly and dragged the back of his free hand across his eyes, and nose. Feeling defeated, he made no move to shove his unruly bangs from his eyes, ignoring them instead. Clearing his throat loudly and sniffing again, he put the vial down by his cup and went inside to get another bottle of ale. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for this shyte." He murmured, ignoring the fact he nearly tripped over his own feet several times in the process. 

                 Returning with a fresh bottle, Mason decided to stay on his feet, rather than return to the stoop. He also passed on using a cup as well, opting to drink straight from the bottle.  He gave the tree-line his undivided drunken attention, eying the shadows with utter contempt.  

                "Are you out there?!" He called out to the darkness. The cold breeze from earlier in the evening had ceased, so, the night snubbed him with silence.  "Are you still lurking about!" Even the moon hid from his interrogations, moving behind the clouds and snuffing out the wispy shadows around him. "Watching me?" Mason stumbled a step forwards, taking a long and messy pull from the ale bottle. Half of it spilled down the front of his shirt, soaking it till it clung to his chest. "Naa lle sinome?" He whispered. 

            As he ranted and raved at the night, the small phial of memories was momentarily forgotten. Dropping back down onto the stoop with a thud, Mason missed when it rolled off the step and out of sight. It didn't take long for him to finish off the second bottle of ale, and when he slammed it down with a cracking thud, Mason uttered such a burp that would make even Valkur envious.  

                 "To the Nines, that’s it, logic be damned." Or, that’s what he meant to say, but it came out an indistinguishable string of jumbled mutterings. More than just drunk, he sounded quite mad. 

                It was then that he realized the vial was no longer in his hand, "Where the?" He remembered having it before he went inside, "Oh, right..." He had put it down by his glass. But it wasn't there anymore. "Curse you, you vile little..." He nearly fell over getting down on his hands and knees to search for it. When he did finally see it, mocking it from under a leaf, under the stairs, he was so incensed that he snatched it up roughly, nearly crushing it. Uncorking it with his teeth, he knocked back the silvery liquid without further hesitation.


	4. Chapter 4

The release of magic threw Mason flat on his back, winding him. Stunned, he laid there for a long moment, staring up at the dark sky as he tried to catch his breath.  In his daze, it occurred to him that the stars seemed abnormally large, and bright.  A sharp pain in his temples finally forced him to realize those were not the stars above him, but streaky-sparkly points of light behind his eyes – which were still shut. With considerable effort and strain, Mason pushed himself up to his feet and he found he was still extremely unsteady.

"Alleria." He whispered into the darkness. She was the only thing on his mind, the only thing in his heart. He tried to will himself sober, but he had drank too much for that.; The fog in his head made it infinitely harder to focus on the rewind that had just happened, to process all that had changed again.

All of his memories of Alleria had returned and they scraped and chafed painfully against the recollection of how poorly he had treated her. Rationally, it wasn't his fault, but he wasn't anywhere in the realm of rational at the moment.

"Alleria!" He raised his voice this time, hollering.  On unsteady legs, he stumbled towards the woods, towards the place he had last seen her. "Alleria!" His voice echoed once and was then swallowed up by the night. He wished, prayed, someone or something would hear him, would find her.  Feeling in his heart as if he was unable to go another minute without making things right, he headed into the trees, calling her name over and over.  The dense packing of the wood shielded him partially from the light rain that had started to fall. He ignored the foul weather, the warmth provided by a belly full of Fire Ale fooling him into disregarding just how unpleasant the weather was becoming.

Moving helped clear his mind, so he could think. Gone was the sentiment that all Elves were fickle heartbreakers. Gone was whatever had originally drawn him to Baasha in Barovia. If he still had any sort of feelings for his dead wife, they were completely overpowered at the moment. But it hurt his head to think about it, so he tried his best not to. Thinking of Baasha, of course, in turn, lead to thinking about his children. He was relieved to realize his feelings for them had not changed at all. He still loved them completely.   Foremost in his mind though, was Alleria.

"Alleria! Manke naa lle?" Surely, she was still nearby. She loved him, he was sure of it. Furthermore, she had all but said that she had been watching him; them. Like a mindless automaton with only a single goal, he pushed his way through the brush.

When he did finally stop, it was to turn his gaze to the heavens, searching the night sky for her. Uttering a frustrated hiss, he pushed his damp hair out of the way, away from his eyes.  Calling out, his voice broke the silence of the still woods, "I beg you! Birds, trees, beasts. Anyone, someone! Tell her I am sorry, tell her I remember!"

No longer moving, the chill of the air, his damp clothes, it caught up with him all at once and his teeth started to chatter. He thought about turning back, but stubbornly refused. He was a man possessed. Forcing his legs, which felt weighted down with rocks, to move again, he headed further still away from the cottage. Taking his eyes off the path to look behind him, he made a misstep and tripped over a fallen tree. As he hit the ground his head connected with someone cold and hard. He could feel wetness on his forehead and his vision blurred. Not by his disobedient hair this time, but something warm trickling down his brow. His head hurt beyond measure and his whole body ached with frigid exertion.

"Alleria." He whispered again, his lips moving but no sounds coming forth. He could feel his senses starting to fade, sight was already gone and his ears felt swollen and blocked. For several, very long moments, the only sign he had he was still alive was the absolute coldness of the wet ground beneath him. As even that started to fade into numbness, so did the thoughts in his mind, winking out of existence like extinguished candles. Alleria. His children. He uttered a tiny, involuntary gasp as his last thread on reality broke.

At some point after that, Mason regained partial consciousness. He couldn’t see anything; his vision having failed from the head wound or his eyes were crusted over with blood. He felt the chill of the wet ground beneath him, and he knew at least that he was still alive, still in the woods. What he couldn’t tell was, if he was still alone. Unsure if it was just his addled mind playing tricks on him, or not, he couldn’t have sworn he felt the brush of something soft across his arm. Fur, or was it just a plant or brush dancing in the breeze. He tried to speak, but his throat was tight and his lips to numb to move. When he tried to move his head, the pain was so intense it caused him to pass out again.


	5. Beloved

                The sound of rolling thunder swept through the forest, and while the inclement weather could have easily been blamed, it was not the cause. Scores of beasts made their way through the night, bounding through the woods with total disregard for the brewing storm. At the lead was a large white wolf, its damp fur spiky and disheveled with icy rain. On either side, spread out in a haphazard line, was a score of smaller wolves. Above them, flying through the air, were countless owls and bats. The cacophony of bodies crashing through the underbrush was joined by all manner of animal calls, all of them sounding distressed.   

                 She had never truly left him, especially not today. She may have roamed, but she had never been out of touch, not since she had found him once again. All of the creatures of the wood, great at small had been tasked with watching over him and his family. His calls for her passed across the miles by beast, bird and plant, and she had come for him. When word made it to her that he was injured, she had doubled her speed and called out to any creature that would listen. With most of the forest out looking for the injured Half-Elf it took no time at all to locate his unconscious body.  

                He had a nasty gash across the side of his head and blood caked his chestnut brown hair to his face. His body was so cold, his clothes soaked through to the skin and clinging to him like a second skin. When she finally reached him, the spell shape was dropped so she could heal his injuries and dry him off. It was only a temporary fix, he needed his bed, he needed to be home with his children. 

                "Oh Mason, my sweet fool." She whispered as she leaned in to kiss his blue tinged lips. Were he not drifting in and out of consciousness, he might have finally gotten his wish and finally ridden her.  But, she couldn't risk carrying him spell-shaped, as he might fall off.  In her natural form he would be too heavy and she too slow. She settled for transforming him into something small and then shape changed as well. Picking up gently, she bore him back to the cottage in her toothy maw. 

  

* * *

 

                When Mason woke at last, he was mostly sober and coherent. He quickly became aware that his eyes finally worked and his head no longer felt as if it was packed with stuffing. He could tell, even before opening his eyes, that it was light out. He was no longer cold, and the surface beneath him wasn't the freezing, hard ground of the forest. It was, in fact soft, and warm.  

                "Hello?" His voice cracked, but sound had passed his lips this time. Opening his eyes slowly, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw he was indeed home, in his own bed. As the shapes around him came into full focus, a weak smile tugged at his lips. 

                "Alleria." He whispered, even with his parched throat, his tone betrayed immense joy. "But, I thought wolf blankets were what the healer ordered for thawing out a frozen sailor." He teased, tugging at the pile of blankets weighing him down.  

                The concern, which had been etched on her face all night, melted away when she saw his color had returned – and his sense of humor. Rising from her seat in the corner of the small bedroom, she glided over to join him on the bed. "You were not in nearly as bad of shape this time." She explained as she leaned in closer to press the back of her hand against his forehead. "Not to mention your children were asleep in the next room." 

                "They are okay? They didn't notice their father's misadventure last night?" He asked, shame tainting his joyful expression for the moment.  

                She shook her head, smiling down at him as she tucked the blankets back around him, "No, they were still sound asleep when I brought you home." 

                "Yeah, about that. Did you carry me here?" He said with slight hesitation as he recalled the odd sensation of moving, of being smaller. Despite his uncertainty, he pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss on the back of it. The entire time, his gaze never wavering. He felt so relieved, so lucky, both to be alive, and that she was here with him.  

                "Yes, of course. Even after I healed your wound you were no help at all." She explained. 

                "So how did you manage it?" He asked, brows arched curiously. 

                She debated telling him the truth of it, but instead, responded with a fully enigmatic Elven smile. "The details are not important. Suffice it to say, I chose the easiest and quickest way. I needed to get you into bed straight away." 

                He couldn't help but laugh, but had to stifle it almost immediately, as his body still ached. "I see, I see...couldn't wait to get me into bed. Probably had your way with me last night while I was at death's door." He teased.  

                She had innocently walked into that one. She was out of practice with dealing with him and forgot about having to choose her words carefully when speaking with him. Not that she minded, it was worth it to see the return of that mischievous and flirtatious look in his eyes that she missed so much. With her free hand, she reached out to run her fingers through his thick hair. "Words cannot express how much joy it brings me to see your old self returned, A'maelamin. I was so worried I had lost you forever." 

                He turned her hand over in his, kissing the palm of it this time. He Looked up into her beautiful face, those striking Elven features, those deep blue eyes, and he couldn't fathom how any magic could have been strong enough to come between them. "Words cannot express how sorry I am for everything." His tone was heartfelt, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "But, as you didn’t leave me in the woods to let the elements take me, I'll assume you're still deeply, madly, in love with me." 

                The bemused look that threatened to fully bloom on her face was quickly wiped away, and with the most expressionless voice she could muster, she replied, "I did it for your children, and I wanted to spare you the pain of resurrection. I have heard it is wholly unpleasant." 

                He laughed again, and it was warm and genuine sounding, despite the physical pain it brought about. "Are they awake? Because if not, I could really use some further...tending to. I think I might have pulled a muscle last night." He shimmied his hips suggestively, but remained under his mountain of blankets. 

Alleria couldn't help but laugh along with him and she reclaimed her hand from his to swat at him. "Yes, they are fine. Awake, fed, and have been playing outside for at least an hour" 

                "Alone? Alleria, they are too young to be outside for that long, alone." He started pushing various layers of bedding away. 

                "Who said anything about being alone? If anything, they are the ones that everyone else need protecting from." 

He quirked a brow, cocking his head to the side slightly. "Alleria, what did you do with my children?" He asked slowly. 

                She gave him a most exasperated sounding sigh, "Brynnan is spell-shaped into this sort of...walking lizard. I believe the locals called it a, dinosaur. Marianna is a, and I hope you can appreciate the difficulty of her request, flying unicorn. But, as I said, they are fine, my wolves are keeping an eye on them."  She managed to make the entire explanation sound as if it truly were not a concern. 

                "Alleria! That is not acceptable parenting!" He blurted out, his face paling slightly.  

                “Oh, hush. They are having the time of their lives.” As if on queue, a large reptilian shape passed the bedroom window, shaking the ground as it walked. 

                Mason’s eyes went wide in disbelief as he watched, “I suppose I will need to talk with them, but, I have no idea of what to say exactly.” He admitted weakly as he looked back to her. “That is, if you’re staying.” Even with how she looked at him, the joy in her eyes, he didn’t want to make any assumptions. She had achieved her goal as far as his memories were concerned, but perhaps this was only about righting a wrong. 

                Alleria was far more assured and had no such doubts. Perhaps it was just another facet of her Elven nature. She simply assumed everyone and everything was in line with how she perceived things to be. “Of course.” She replied, a delicate brow of her own raising in mild confusion. “Why would you think I would not?” 

                “I don’t know.” He said softly, taking her hands in his own, looking down at them. “Because I’m not fancy-free young man I was sixteen years ago. Because I have two children. Because you might feel differently now. Things change, people change.” He listed all the worries that had taken up residence in his mind and felt them chip away at his confidence as he spoke them out loud. “Because we can’t go back to how it was.” 

                She listened to his concerns, nodding as he listed each. “While I am sure this new Mason is more cautious and responsible, last night notwithstanding, I see enough of the old Mason in him that I loved dearly. I can assure you my feelings for you have not waned. If sixteen years was all the time it took for an Elven heart to go cold we would have no courtship at all.” She teased and, the corners of her mouth tugging into that demure smile.  

                She was staying! Ever muscle in his body relaxed as the last bit of worry drained away. Any pain he was feeling from the night before had subsided as well. All was right with the world and he couldn't have felt better! 

                “Are you sure you are ready to resume where we left off? You will remember our arrangement?” she asked, trying so very hard not to let her pure smile turn into a smirk. 

                With an utterly embellished groan, Mason slumped back against his pillows, hanging his head. “The no sex thing.” he whined dramatically. “I had forgotten all about that.” No, he hadn't. “Perhaps, it would be better if we didn’t continue things then.” He said, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly and looking up at her through those disobedient bangs. 

                “You dog.” She scolding, knowing full well he was trying to torment her. “Perhaps since you have seen fit to be such a beast about it, I will not tell that you were released you from your bond.” 

                That got his attention and he sat back up at full attention, shoving his hair out of his eyes to give her his full attention. “You did, why? How?” his mind started racing, reeling, with images – provocative and lustful images. And it showed on his face. 

                “Mason, please try to stay focused.” 

                He blinked several times, staring at her, but not wanting to fully evict those images from his mind. “Yes.” Her cleared his throat, “I’m listening.” 

                Seeing she had at least part of his attention  again, she replied, “There’s not much of a how, truthfully. I would suppose the best answer is, simply, “I am an Archdruid now. As for the why, I can only say, sixteen years may not be that long for an Elf, but it is for a woman.” 

                His brows jumped up as his lust addled brain processed what she was saying, “How long…” he leaned in to brush his lips across hers lightly, his hands resting on her hips, “…will the children’s magic last?”  

                She tilted her head to mirror his, touching  her forehead to his in an intimate gesture. “Oh, maybe five more minutes….” 

                “More than enough time, I can work with that!” He exclaimed with a self-deprecating chuckle. The blankets were shoved away so he could get to her more easily, picking away at her clothing piece by piece. He was already naked, and his excitement was showing. 

                Alleria couldn’t help but laugh at her beloved. “Did I say five minutes, I meant the rest of the day. That is, so long as you do not distract me too much. It does require some concentration. I did feed them a Goodberry for breakfast though, so their bellies will not drive them inside prematurely.”  

                Mason took this new information in stride, but didn’t slow or cease the task at hand. Not until he had her completely disrobed did he speak again, “I forgot how perfect you are.” He said as his gaze traveled over her flawless form. 

               “Mason, you are looking positively wolfish.” She teased as she allowed him to pull her onto the bed.  

               He said nothing, instead, waggling his brows at her in a suggestive, yet comedic sort of manner. One of his hands went to sweep the pile of blankets off the bed as he pulled her close to him, embracing her fully. She had told him they had hours, and he fully intended to saver each moment reacquainting himself with every inch of her.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

                As promised, the spell-shape Alleria cast on the children lasted into the early evening. This had given Mason an ample chance to get caught up on lost time. Of which he made sure of to joke about several times. While the reunion was a welcome one, once the euphoria had worn off, Alleria felt the grim feeling of being out of place. This had been their home. She was lying in their bed. It made her uncomfortable, a feeling she was unaccustomed to.  Mason hadn’t gone into any details, but, it seemed to Alleria at least, that the return of his memories had in fact pushed Baasha from his heart. Now if only she could push his dead wife from her mind.

                Hearing the children’s voices outside, Alleria rose from the bed, untangling herself from Mason’s limp limbs, and got dressed. If Mason had heard them as well, he made no immediate indication. Sliding up the bed, he propped his head up on his hand to watch her put her clothes on.

                 “You’re beautiful.” He murmured, though in his mind, the words didn’t do justice to the maelstrom of emotions swirling around in his head and mind as he watched her.

                She accepted the compliment with a soft laugh as she pulled her blouse on over her head and tugged at its laces. “You may want to save the rest of that sentiment for later. We are about to have company.” With her second boot found, she sat back down on the bed to pull it on.

                He groaned softly, trying not to feel guilty for wanting her all to himself for just a little longer. His children’s voices, now at the bedroom door, grew too loud to ignore. “Hold your horses, your dad needs a minute.” He called out as he rolled out of bed to collect his own clothing.

                 “Horses?” the little voices responded questioningly and then started to sing in unison, “Horses! Horses! We want horses!” from behind the door.

                 “Are they always so excitable?” She had no real experience with children, having none of her own and not spent enough time at her village to be involved with the raising of other’s offspring. By Elvish standards, she still had many summers before having to worry about progeny. Mason’s children were quickly growing on her though, and thankfully, they seemed equally taken with her.

                Mason shook his head as he dressed, though he did give her a sidelong glance. Switching to Elvish, to speak privately, “ _They were so sullen before you arrived. Their mother’s death wasn’t sudden, and we all had time to prepare, but…_ ” he sighed as reality started creeping back in, dispelling the magic of the last few hours they had shared together.

                “Horses! Horses!” the chanting was becoming more demanding.

                “Okay, okay, cut it out you little goblins.” He said in a humorous tone, pushing open the bedroom door to join them in the other room.

                Alleria lingered in the doorway, watching Mason gather up his children. He had been right, she thought to herself, he was not the same man he was sixteen years ago, but the things that mattered to her, were still there. She knew they could not go back, but that did not mean they could not move forward. A thin smile played on her lips as she watched him try to coral the wound-up children to the table.

                It took some time, but Mason finally managed to settle the children to the point he felt they would be able to listen to a serious conversation - though there would be horses in the near future as part of the deal. She had said she was staying, so there was no point in putting off speaking to the children about it.  Stealing himself with a deep breath, he spared a glance to the Elf in the corner before facing his children. Marianna was still, quite animatedly, talking about her spell-shape adventures. Brynnan however, was quiet, watching his father intently. He was young, but he had a knack for reading the room and knew something was about to happen.

                “Pa, what is it?” He asked softly.

                Mason’s stomach started to knot up as he cautiously picked his words. There was only so much he could tell his children, and the details of Barovia and Strahd was definitely not the stuff of children’s tales.

                 “Can we play again tomorrow?” Marianne asked, wriggling in her chair.

                Mason pulled his seat closer to his daughter’s and took one of her small hands into his. “Sure, dear. But right now, we need to talk for a bit, about how I met your Ma, and Alleria.”

                Marianne nodded, wriggling more vigorously in her chair now. “You went to another place! The saved the people there from a very bad man.”

                Mason nodded slowly, “Yes, a very bad man indeed” He was going to have to tell them more than he had wanted to. He looked to Alleria for support, and when she nodded, he continued.

                 “The bad man tried to get Alleria to help him, to hurt her friends, because he was mad at us.”

                 “Because you were helping the people.” Brynnan said, “Why did he pick on Alleria?”

                 “Well…the bad man was mean because he was sad. Sad about a woman he loved.” Mason explained.

                 “Bad because he was sad?” Marianne sounded absolutely perplexed.

                "Yes." He replied, "Remember last spring when you broke daddy's favorite cup, because you were upset we wouldn't let you go into town with me that day?"

                Marianne hung her head, sensing she was about to be scolded again for the event.

                "Well, the bad man was in love with a woman, and she died, so he was sad about that." Both children visibly tensed at the mention of death. "We were helping another woman, that looked just like her. We helped her escape from the bad man. He was very angry with us, and decided to hurt us because of it." Mason watched their little faces, searching for understanding.

                Marianne slid out of her chair and wormed her way into her father's lap to hug him. Brynnan sat, stone faced, still waiting for the point of the story.

                Mason exhaled, audibly, through his nose, taking a moment before continuing. This was more difficult than he had expected, and he hadn't yet reached the most delicate part.

                "So, the bad man, " he continued, "decided to hurt...no, confuse your Pa."

                Alleria came over to the table, taking Marianne's vacated seat. She reached out to squeeze Mason's knee in a reassuring fashion. Seeing him at a loss for how to continue, she joined in the explanation. "Strahd – the bad man – knew that your Pa and I were close friends, so he decided to make us sad, like he was. To do that, he made your dad forget about me. To take him away from me, like we had taken the other lady away from him."

                Both children were still wearing a look of confusion after Alleria's summation. Framing things for young minds was not turning out to be her strong suit.

                "Remember your Pa said Strahd was sad because we took away the woman he loved?" She added and both children nodded, following that much for the moment at least.

                "Well, he saw how happy your Pa and I were together, so he wanted to make us sad too. So, he...took away your dad's happy. But, your Pa didn't know he was unhappy, so that made me sad."

                Brynnan uttered a soft, "Oh." Under his breath and Marianne, hearing it, nodded as well, though it looked more like she didn't want to be left out.

                Alleria turned her attention back to Mason and motioned him to continue. Now he would need to somehow gloss over his wife's betrayal. "But, you were happy again, when you...killed him, right?" Brynnan asked, making his father wince slightly.

                "We were all happy, to have freed the people he was hurting. But no, son, taking a life should never make someone happy, no matter how bad the person was." Mason explained.

                "And what about Mummy?" Marianne asked, her expression starting to wilt after all this talk of death, killing and painful emotions. "That is where you met Mummy. The bad man didn't make her sad, too, right?"

                Mason stood, holding Marianne close to his chest protectively, stroking her back in slow and smoothing strokes. "Your mum tried to cheer me up, she didn't want me to be sad."

                "Did she cheer you up too?" Brynnan asked, looking to Alleria with a curious, and thoughtful look on his face.

                "No." Alleria replied, sounding more pointed than she had meant.

                "Children, I know this is hard to understand, but..." Mason started to say, but Brynnan interjected, cutting him off.

                "But some parts are for grownups, and not children."

                Mason looked at his son of not even nine winters and quirked a brow. When did he get so smart, and how much of this was he getting, beyond their dumbed down version, he wondered to himself.

                "Well, yes." Mason finally said.

                "So, after beating the bad man, we came home, your mother pledged herself to me and then we had you both. But, Alleria..." He stopped pacing the room with his daughter, turning his attention to the Elf.

                "But, Alleria was still sad without your Pa." She added, "But, she knew your Pa was with your Mum, and happy, so she stayed away." She was doing her best to choose her words carefully, so as not to upset the children she had grown so found of, the direct mannerisms of Elvish speech would have been too harsh for them, "When I heard your Mum had passed on, I came to help take care of him, and of you."

                "You're going to be our new Ma?" Marianne asked, doing nothing to contain the swell of conflicting emotions inside her.

                "No." Alleria replied, but before she could elaborate, Brynnan a firm, "No." Of his own. His face was easy to read as well, and it was far less conflicted than his younger sister's.

                "No, I could never replace your mother." Alleria said, doing her best to keep her tone in check. She had yet to forgive Baasha.

                "Because of what happened, Alleria has been sad for a long time." His face screwed up slightly at the sound of his own words. They not only sounded inadequate, but silly as well. "She knew how sad we would all be without your Ma, so she wanted to help." It was only partially a lie, he thought to himself.

                "I like her." Marianne said, still clinging to her father, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Mason could feel the dampness of her tears against his neck.

                Alleria smiled at the admission of the little girl, "I like you too, Marianne, both of you." She added, looking to the still conflicted Brynnan. His face was flushed now and his little hands were clenched.

                "Me too." He said, sharply. "But, I don't think I'll ever not be sad about Ma." He seemed to hesitate for a moment and then burst out of his chair to latch onto his father as well, burying his face in his side to hide his tears.

                Mason shifted Marianne to his hip, freeing up a hand to stroke his son's hair soothingly.  He couldn't cry with his children over Baasha's death, not yet, but their sadness broke his head.

                "That...that's okay." He whispered, "Missing your Ma is natural, and Alleria isn't here to take her place as your Ma. She just knows your Pa can be a bit useless and needs help."

                "Like the time you cut down that big tree with the stinger nest in it and got stung up so bad you looked like a hobgoblin?" Brynanan asked, his voice muffled.

                "Or the time you tried to make Mummy a surprise cake for her birthday and..."

                Mason cut off her daughter's story, "Okay, okay, enough embarrassing your poor old Pa in front of Alleria. She might think me beyond help and leave. You know how judgmental Elves can be." He teased with a wink.

                "But you said she knew..." Marianne pointed out with complete innocence.

                "Do not worry, A'mealamin, I already know you are fully beyond hope." Alleria replied with the faintest trace of a smile on her lips.

                Hearing the Elvish word added with ease to her reply, Marianna perked up, "If you are staying, that means you can teach me Elvish!"

                "And Elf magic!" Brynnan chimed in, finally pulling his face away from his father's hip.

                "There will be plenty of time for both those things, but not tonight. You've had quite enough excitement for one day." Mason said, peeling both of his children from him. "Wash up and get to bed. If you're quick about it, I am sure we can convince Alleria to tell you a story."

                This stopped Marianne in her tracks, "An Elvish one?"

                "Of course, what did you expect her to tell? A goblin one?" Mason teased as he sent them both off to get ready for bed.

                Once they were out of earshot, he commented, "That went better than the shipwreck I had expected." He held his hand out to his Elven maid and she obliged him, stepping in close. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply with a tired sounding sigh.

                "You did well enough."

                "Honestly, better than you did, I think." He teased, though without the smile that should have accompanied his tone. "It's still a little muddled." He explained softly. "Whatever romantic feelings I had for Baasha are gone. But, she was more than just my wife, she was the mother of my children – whom I still love beyond all measure. All of my memories of them are wrapped up with her as well." He frowned slightly and then shook his head. "It will take some time to sort it all out."

                Alleria turned her face towards his, resting cheek to cheek with him. "You need not dwell on it, on my account, Mason. Perhaps it is just best to leave those memories in the past, and work on moving forward." She brushed her lips across his skin lightly, "I know your heart, Liumiur, and it is as it was on the banks of the Raven River, all those years ago.

                "It is true." He whispered, holding her close, never wanting to let her go again. Despite the weight in his heart, he couldn't help but chuckle as his body rubbed against hers suggestively.

                She groaned, but it was not the pleasurable type he had hoped to illicit from her. "How is it possible that you were concerned too much had changed, that I would not have stayed? I do believe, if anything, you have grown worse."

                "Like a fine wine." He said before brushing his lips across her copper hued cheek as he pulled from her embrace regretfully.

                "An aged cheese, perhaps." She teased back, letting him go, so that he could check on his children.


End file.
